When Angels Cry
by RavishinglyRood
Summary: Takes place sometime before Requiem. Reader Discretion is advised(D/V). Over ten years ago Mulder failed to close a case that he took too personally. When the suspect returns, he strikes closer to Mulder than he could have ever imagined... ***The autho
1. Sometimes...

**Author's Note:** This is a sequel to a previous fic I wrote entitled Home Sweet Home. (Available in finer author profiles everywhere!) While I did my best to make sure you did not have to read HSH, it probably would enhance your enjoyment of this story if you did. Also, there are some fairly intense scenes and themes in this story, so while I felt that it was not enough to push it past PG-13, it is certainly pretty close to R with its dialouge and violence towards minors. While I did not feel it was R, you may, and you should be advised to take whatever precaustions when reading. Also, please ignore that I created a one year gap between "Hollywood AD" and "Requiem". That was an accident and hardly the worst thing I've ever done. 

Randall and Son's Funeral Home  
Washington D.C.  
1988  


The room was bright, washed in white light and outlined in flowers. In the back of the room, face sullen and pale, I stood as a man whose heart more than carried its share of darkness. I was still a kid to the FBI back then, green, but I could run with the best of them, or at least that's what I thought. 

At times the room faded away, and all that I could see was the horrible image that burned itself in my mind the moment her last breath fell onto my arm. I was lost in myself and was startled when a hand gently rested itself on my shoulder. I lifted my face in the hand's direction, meeting the eyes of a man I worked the case with.

"Look, kid," the man said, his voice straining to sound comforting. It was obvious he had seen worse and it hardened him over time. "You tried your best. These things happen, and there was nothing more you could have done. Try not to take this too personal, okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, sure thing, sir," I replied distantly. His words went no deeper than my ears. The man walked off, but not before slapping me on the back. 

I glanced hesitantly around, noting the small sign that read, "Funeral Visitation: Angela Shaffer", the people, and the coffin. Just looking at the coffin made my heart stop, and my body go cold. I had been able to keep the full brunt of what had happened hidden from my emotions, but now the veil was lifted. Slowly, as if pulled by some unseen string, I began my movement past the friends, family, and loved ones. I did not pause in my slow, steady journey to the coffin, not even to speak to the hysterical mother the girl had left behind. 

The coffin was closed, but I could almost see the horrible mess that had been made of the once beautiful little girl. A lump formed in my throat that threatened to suffocate me. 

"Angela," I said slowly. The voice did not sound like mine, like it was coming from someone else, and I was on the other side of the room listening in. "Angela. I'm so sorry. If I had acted sooner- better- you would still be alive. If it weren't for me… I-I'm sorry; it's all my fault that I can't even avenge your death. Please…please forgive me…."

Sometimes, even after all these years, it feels like I'm still standing in front of that coffin.

The X-Files  
**When Angels Cry**  
Never Give Up Hope

FBI Headquarters  
X-Files Division  
Present Day

"Well, that did not go over too well did it, Mulder?" Scully remarked, biting her lip slightly as they stepped out of the elevator. 

"Oh come on. We've had worse. Remember how Skinner reacted when we cut up that guy we assumed was Micah Hoffman?" 

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," she said as they rounded a corner and started down the hall. "Still, Mulder, I don't think I have ever seen the vein in his forehead stick out that far."

"I have," Mulder replied slyly, "lots of times."

"Well," Scully said, as he held the door to their office open, "some of us are not accustomed to our superiors jumping down our throats."

"You've been my partner for how many years now and you're still not use to superiors jumping down our throats? I must be slacking off somewhere…." he commented on his way to slumping down in his chair. 

She slumped down in hers as well. As she sighed, she pushed the air upwards, causing a strand of hair to jump even further out of place while she looked around the office. It was tiny, which as understandable. The Bureau did not put much time, effort, or money into the X-Files division, unless it was to shut it down. Sometimes Scully laughed at the thought of what the look on the higher-ups' faces must have been when they had heard their most promising agent Fox Mulder had gave up the fast ride to the top to chase little green men in the furthest reaches of Cooterville. 

"I'm having one of those days, Mulder," Scully said, letting her eyes fall on him. He already had a collection of sunflower seed shells on the desk. "First, I only got a few hours of sleep last night after my field report, then the shower was broken, and do not get me started on the little brat that nearly ran me over on his skateboard."

"Well, somebody needs a nap," Mulder said, smirking. Scully shot him a glance that could have cut through to the next room. "Come on, Scully," Mulder said, leaning on the desk, "surely there was something good about today. Tell me you saw the look on Skinner's face when he read the rental car price and that you did not laugh."

"Well, it was the first time I've heard a fifteen word sentence that used only four words," she said, smiling a little. He should not have gotten so mad over that. Was it really their fault that the rental place's last vehicle was a brand new VW Beetle? "Actually, Mulder, there was something I was looking forward to showing you."

He lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"No, not that," she replied to the glance.

"Oh, fiddle-sticks," his deadpan humor replied.

She smiled at her best friend. "I received a letter from David yesterday."

David. What could she say about David? He was a wonderful young boy from Bloomfield, Kansas they had investigated a year earlier about the deaths of his parents and sister. They had gone undercover as foster parents, and they ended up falling in love with the child. It had been so hard to leave him when the case was over. Periodically they exchanged letters and he was also in the X-Files with his rather unique ability for telekinesis, and potential pyrokinetics. 

"David?" Mulder asked, perking up a little. "How is he doing? Does he have a new girlfriend?"

"Let's see, it's the first of the month…. He really became the little heartthrob, didn't he?"

"I think he's going to have to give me lessons."

Scully laughed. "I haven't read it yet. I thought we should read it together, like we usually do."

"So…" Mulder gave a little faux paranoid glance around the room. "Why are we not?"

"I left it at my apartment…and…before you even say something along the lines of me enticing you, it was because I was raging at the shower."

He did not have to say a word in order to make her blush at hers.

* * *


	2. "We're going to Kansas."

Georgetown, VA  
Outside Dana Scully's Apartment

Knock knock knock. 

Mulder paused, waiting for a reply. When none came, he pounded on the door again louder.

Mulder rocked on his heels impatiently, letting the plastic bag he carried swing back and forth, winding itself up, then spinning itself around on the recoil. He reached his hand in his pocket and jingled his keys a bit. He bit his lip. In short, he was restless and impatient. His mind began to wander… 

Something was wrong. It never took Scully this long to answer.

"Scully? Scully!" he called pounding on the door as loudly as he could. Instinctively, he started to reach for his gun, but realized wearing his jeans and T-shirt meant he did not have it with him. 

"Just a minute!" her muffled voice called back. Something had to wrong, and Mulder reached into the bag, pulling out the first object his hand wrapped around. The doorknob slowly twisted, and even slower, the door creaked open as Mulder raised his arm ready to strike.

"Jesus, Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, jumping back. Her hair was dripping, and she was wrapped in a bathrobe. Mulder could see the blood start to return to her face. "You scared the…."

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, turning his head down so she would not see him blush. "I thought maybe somebody had broken in and tied you up or something."

She eyed the object in his hand. "And your plan was to strike them over the head with a bag of popcorn?"

He blushed a little more as he looked at the plastic wrapped bag of unpopped corn he held. "Well, I wasn't about to endanger this," he said, trying to make a joke out of it by pulling a videocassette out of the bag. "Have you seen how much they charge when you return them late? Imagine the charge if you beat somebody over the head with one."

Pushing the hair out of her eyes, Scully took the tape. "**Manos: The Hand of Fate**?" she asked curiously.

"Well, I was not going to come all the way out here just to read a letter. You were having a bad day; I thought a little bit of bad acting and clichéd plot devices might cheer you up."

"Thanks, Mulder. That was…sweet…albeit in your own distorted sense of the word. Sit-down. The repair man just left half and hour ago and you pulled me out of the shower." 

Scully pressed her slender index finger to his mouth just as his lips started to open. "Not a word, Mulder," she said slyly, giving him a little shove as she went to the bathroom. 

_Darn,_ he thought, _I had a good one for that too._ Mulder sat down on the sofa. Scully's apartment was nice, why did he not come here more often? On the armrest, an envelope caught his eye. It was addressed to _Dana Scully (and Fox Mulder)_ written with David's cramped, thirteen-year-old handwriting. He had to marvel at Scully's self control; the temptation to open it was already overwhelming him, begging him, pleading him to give in. He was just about to when the smell of shampoo and soap alerted him to Scully's arrival. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair still damp. 

She sat down beside him as he twisted the envelope, spinning it in his hands. "Well, Mulder," she said, "are we going to open it or just stare at it all evening?"

"I don't know. I'm thoroughly amused as it is."

"Give it here," she said, reaching for it. At the same time he moved his arm so it was beyond her reach. "Mulder," she said, smiling wearily, "stop playing around and give it here."

He held it out to her, and her hand opened to take it. As her fingers closed, he pulled it away with a smirk. 

"That's not funny."

"Yes it is."

"No, Mulder, it's not," she said, trying not to laugh. 

"Fine," he said, tearing the envelope. Inside were a piece of paper and a photograph. Mulder pulled out the paper, and Scully read it with him.

_Dear Dana and Fox,_

What's up? Thanks for the birthday present you sent me, it rocks. You have no idea how many stores kicked me out for drooling on their floors over **Galaxy Cross II**. You did the merchants of our small town a huge favor, as well as make a guy very happy.

Heather and I are going back out again.

"That makes what, the third time this year?" Mulder remarked.

_I sent you guys a picture. It was taken at one of our junior high's basketball games a couple of months ago. I'm there in the center, in case you don't recognize me, and Heather's to my right. Robert's the kid on my left. That guy in front (who kind of got in the way at the wrong time) is Mr. Nicolas. He moved in next door not too long ago, and he teaches algebra at our school. He's really nice. I mow his lawn for him sometimes. It's all about the Benjamins, you know. (Okay, so maybe it's more like Washingtons and Lincolns…)_

Anyway, I have to go. Write me back soon, okay?

David

"He's really grown, Mulder," Scully remarked, pulling the picture from the envelope. 

"Let me see," Mulder said, reaching for it. 

She gave it to him, and watched as his eyes traced over the photo. She was surprised, however, when they did not brighten, but rather his eyes grew gray as he laid them on the photograph.

Mulder's heart sank, and his stomach was suddenly too small to hold his last meal. He took in a breath that sent a tremor down his spine.

It sent one down hers too.

"Mulder," Scully started, trying not to sound worried, "what is it?"

"Pack your bags, Scully," he said. "We're going to Kansas."

* * *


	3. Tangle the Web

"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully asked sternly, her heart rate quickening. 

"That man, the one in the photo, Mr. Nicolas. His real name is Logan Jackson. He's a felon wanted on multiple counts of murder." _ Among other things…_

"And you think David might be in danger?"

He hesitated. _ Definitely._ "I doubt it," he lied, not wanting to worry her. "He's irrational sometimes, so I can't say for certain. See if you can get us on a flight; I have some calls to make." _And a hunch to play._ He clicked on his cellular phone as Scully reached for her cordless. Frantically, he pushed in a number.

-----

"Ow!" Melvin Frohike exclaimed, swearing under his breath as he banged his head on table he was working under. He let a soldering iron clang to the cold floor as he rubbed his newly forming bump. "Langly!" he shouted. "Could you answer that blasted phone?"

"No-can-do, this chump is just about to be enrolled in the Langly's School of Gettin' Schooled," Langly shouted over the ringing, not bothering to move from his seat in front of the computer. 

Grumbling, aching, and cursing Triangle Soft for ever making a sequel to **Galaxy Cross**, Frohike staggered his way to the phone. " What do you want?" he barked.

"Frohike, it's Mulder."

"Mulder? Oh, sorry I yelled like that," he apologized to his friend. "It's just that _someone_ can't get off their lazy ass to answer the phone."

"Lazy? I'll have you know I put in many long hours to build up my Yurni Gladiators," Langly replied, not looking up.

Frohike shook his head, not bothering with the six witticisms that immediately sprang to mind. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Mulder?" Frohike asked.

"Listen, I need you guys to look for a website for me."

"I think we can do that." Frohike, Langly, and Byers. Collectively they were known as the Lone Gunmen, journalists for their newspaper of the same name. They had looked for websites often, but usually it ended up with them getting chased by some government cover-up once they found it.

"Do what?" Langly asked from his seat.

"Mulder wants us to find a website for him," Frohike replied. 

"Puh-lease! Where's the challenge?" Langly whined. 

-----

"It's not just any website," Mulder said, lowering his voice, making sure Scully was not able to hear. "I don't know for sure it exists, but see if you can find one for _Felicity Films_." 

"_Feleicity Films_?" Frohike questioned. "Never heard of it."Is this for some unquenchable fetish of yours?

"I'm not fooling around, Frohike," Mulder snapped. "This is not a game. A person's life may be at stake here, and this website-if it exists-may be able to give us some leads should we need them."

"Okay, sorry. We'll get right on it."

As he hung up on them, Mulder checked over his shoulder to make sure Scully was still occupied. 

"No, Kansas, not Canada…it's a state in the Midwest…the Midwest of America…no, that's Canada again…." she said over the phone, getting visibly annoyed. Mulder would have found it humorous any other time. 

In a way, he felt bad that he was keeping the whole story from her, but he could not bring himself to tell her the horrible facts; it would only serve to scare her. Scully was a strong woman, but she was only strong at carrying pain for herself, not watching others suffer. 

Again, Mulder punched buttons on the phone and brought it to his ear. "Operator, I need the number for someone in Bloomfield, Kansas."

-----

The Watson Residence  
526 Grant Street  
Bloomfield, Kansas

Robert Watson laid stretched out on his bed with arms spread out, feet dangling off the edge, watching the fan above him spin around and around, and just plain being bored. It was Friday night; he was supposed to go to the movies with some friends, but his best pal Matt had not called yet. He had spent the last hour pacing the kitchen, roaming around the house, and walking the edge of the pool in their backyard before winding up here. _Man, I wish I could drive, _he thought. 

The sound of the phone ringing was a sweet music to his ears, and he blasted through the house to the receiver in record time, nearly knocking his mother down in the process.

"Matt?" he answered. 

He was disappointed when the voice on the other end, too deep to be the twelve-year-old's, replied, "David?"

"David? He's not here right now; he went bowling with his girlfriend. This is Robert. I could take a message for him, if you want…. Molder? Oh, Mulder…. What was the number again?" He scribbled the number down on the back of the grocery list his mother had made the night before. "Okay, got it. I'll tell him you called." Robert hung the receiver up gently and left the paper lying on the counter feeling just a little jealous that his brother, well foster brother, was getting more phone calls than he was. 

He made his way slowly back to his room. Just as he was about to fall onto the bed, the phone rang again. "I got it!" he shouted, racing through the house once again. "Hello?" he said, breathing hard as he pressed the phone to his face.

"Robert? Hey, man, it's Matt. We're all goin' to see **Cain and Able**. Meet us at the theater, okay?" 

"Okay, good. See ya'," he said, hanging up. "Mom, can you take me to the theater?" 

"Sure," the woman replied with a small sigh and grabbing her keys. They were at the door before she spoke again, "Wait. You need to go get your jacket; it might rain tonight." 

He grumbled, the newly produced hormones in his body making everything his mother said stupid and obnoxious. "Fine," he said, running as fast as he could back through the house. On his return flight, he flew past the counter kicking the air around him into movement. It slowly lifted the piece of paper he had written on into the air, carrying it only for a moment, and then dropping it in the wastebasket on the floor below.

-----

"Well, Mulder," Scully said as he put down his cell phone, "the first flight we can get is tomorrow. I know I'm probably just paranoid, but I would feel better if we warned David to stay away from this guy."

"I just tried their house, Scully. He was not home, but Robert said he would have him call me back." _ I can't believe this is happening again. Please let everything be okay._

_That's odd,_ Scully thought. Had not he just said David was not in any danger, yet he was trying to warn him-and without her knowledge of it? "Mulder. Mulder?" Scully said, catching her partner's wayward stare into nothingness. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just…thinking..."

"Look, why don't you go home and get some rest? We have a long flight ahead of us."

"Yeah, you're right."

* * *


	4. Flight 320

TWA Flight 320  
Noon

His eyes were dark, sagging and drooping. By any logic he should not have been in the realm between awake and asleep but fully submerged in the latter. Every time he closed his eyes, though, the images he saw forced them back open again. He spent the night like that, knowing he should catch some rest while he could, but never getting it in his grasp. Once, when he shut his eyes, he could almost feel her in his arms again as that final breath left her beaten and tattered body…. 

"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully asked from the seat next to him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

"Oh," she replied. _Why are you acting like this?_ she thought. _You've been in your own little world ever since you saw that man Logan Jackson's picture, and you're not letting me in. What are you hiding from me? _

She watched as he opened up his cell phone. She did not know it was possible to open a cellular phone in a way that was chilling in its callousness, but somehow he did it. "Who are you calling, Mulder?" she asked.

Regardless of whether he did not hear her or because he did not want to tell her David never called him back, he chose to not answer her.

- - - - -

Bloomfield, Kansas  
526 Grant Street

The ringing of the phone echoed through the empty hallway and silent rooms of the dark house. It screamed as loudly as it could, begging and pleading, but no one answered its call. The family was gone: Jack and Kelly Watson were in town, making their usual Saturday errands; Robert Watson was four and a half blocks away throwing fire crackers at random objects with his accomplice Matt Rawson; and David Anderson, the fourth and newest member of the family, was next door mowing the lawn of their neighbor Mr. Nicolas.

David's hair was dripping from sweat. The day was unseasonably, no, unnaturally hot. The sun beat relentlessly down on both him and the mower he pushed in front of him. "Oh, man," he said, wiping the sweat off before it got in his eyes, "I'm only halfway done." He groaned. There were at least a hundred other things he would have rather been doing, but this was the only one that both paid and was legal. 

Still, the heat was unrelenting, and sweat caused his shirt to stick to his back making it even more difficult to move. He paused for a moment and looked around, considering his option. _Well,_ he thought, _there isn't any girls around or anything to laugh at me. And I don't think anybody from the street can see my back._ He thought of the faint scars that still lingered there. They were from his other childhood, his previous life. The life he lived before he met Mulder and Scully and eventually moved in with the Watsons. He grasped the bottom of his shirt, fought it as it stuck to his back, and pulled it over his head. 

"Perfect," the man said, pressing the button on the digital camera. From behind the window, he had full view of the boy as he toiled in his yard. "That's it, turn this way, just a little. Oh, yes, perfect." Another picture. Then another, and another. And then one more.

- - - - -

Scully watched as her partner slammed the phone against the seat in frustration and created a noise that drew the attention of several passengers. "Who did you just call?" Scully asked. 

He already had his elbow resting against the window, his chin in his hand. "No one," he muttered.

She wanted to press him, to get him to tell her what was going on. Instead she let him have his secret; if he did not want to talk about it, there was no getting it out of him without causing a scene. Thus she turned her attention back to the magazine she had been thumbing through.

Several minutes passed with Mulder looking at his watch, then out the window, then at the guy behind them, then his watch, and again Mulder tried to call David. When no one answered, he followed the same pattern once more. Again, no one answered and he slammed the phone against the seat in front of him, making the man sitting there turn around and glare.

"Sorry," Scully said when she saw Mulder was not going to say it. The man turned back around, and she turned to Mulder. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.

He bit his lip. It was so hard to hold onto everything that was going on in his mind. He wanted to tell her everything, to just get it out in the open. He hated lying to her, and he would have loved her shoulder then as much as ever. "I can't," he said slowly, "I haven't heard from David."

Her face turned grim. "Should I be worried?"

"No. No, I'm sure it's nothing. You know Robert probably just got busy and forgot to tell him."

"I'm going to try calling him. Maybe I'll have better luck," she said, starting to reach for her cell phone.

"Use mine," Mulder said, handing the phone to her. "Just hit redial."

- - - - - 

_ Oh man, _David thought, _it must be a hundred and twenty degrees out there! _ He was still sweating from the heat despite being inside. He opened the refrigerator and the coolness of it felt refreshing against his face and arms. He took a soda, and made his way to the den. There he smiled as he counted his money and sipped at his refreshment. 

Brrrrring!

David groaned. "Of course, when I just sat down." He forced himself up and to the phone. "Hello," he answered.

"David?" 

"Yeah…. Is this….?"

"It's Dana."

"Hey! How's it going?" he asked cheerfully. It seemed like forever since he had last heard her voice.

"I've been better." She looked at Mulder. "David, I need you to do me a favor."

"Uhhh…sure, I guess. What is it?"

"I want you to promise that you will not go over to your neighbor Mr. Nicolas's house anymore."

"Why?"

_What do I tell him? The truth, assuming Mulder told me the truth... As long as he stays away from Jackson, he'll be okay; he'd be okay anyway, right? _ "He's a wanted felon. Mulder and I are going to be there in a few hours, okay? We'll explain when we get there. Just please, promise me that you will not go over there."

David paused. _What did Mr. Nicolas do?_

"David, promise. Please." Her voice sounded desperate.

"Yeah, okay," he said, curiosity and confusion clashing in his mind. "I promise."

- - - - - 

"David says he won't have contact with Jackson until we get there," Scully said, returning the phone to her partner. He did not say anything. _He's still hiding something. He's more worried than I am, and I don't see how that's possible in any other way. _

"Mulder," Scully said, placing her hand on his. He turned away. "If you need to talk about something, I'm here for you." _Whatever you're hiding, you don't have to hide it from me._

"I'm-I'm fine, Scully," he lied. 

* * *

Bloomfield, Kansas  
526 Grant Street  
3:23 P.M.

_What could Mr. Nicolas have done to get the feds after him?_ David thought as he shot the basketball up in the air. It bounced off the rim a couple of times before landing nicely through the net. He bounced it a few times on the ground and shot again, once more sinking it perfectly. S_he sounded worried, but Mr. Nicolas is such a nice guy, surely he didn't do anything that bad. Maybe he was wrongly accused. Maybe they're just going to question him or something. _

Whatever the reason, it had been driving him crazy for the last few hours. When he did get it off his mind, he could hardly contain his excitement over seeing Fox and Dana again. He had missed them a lot in the year since they investigated his family's deaths. _Has it already been a year?_

"Hey, David," voice shouted between struggled gasps. "Would you care to give me a hand with this?"

David turned around to see Mr. Nicolas trying to push a box, about the same size as him, into the house. On the side was a picture of a table, and it had to be heavy. David looked at him, but did not say a thing.

"Please? It's really heavy, and I'm afraid I'll drop it and break it."

_Oh, man. I can't just not help him, can I? That wouldn't be cool. _David pushed a hand through his light brown hair, thinking, _But I promised Dana. But then again, Mr. Nicolas has always been nice to me, and he's never given me reason to worry. Maybe they just want to talk to him about parking tickets or something little like that. Besides, I can take care of myself. _At that, he thought of the telekinetic abilities he had had since he was just a little, little boy. "Well…." he said, still thinking it over. 

"Please?"

_Don't do it, David, _a voice inside said. 

"Okay." David saw the sigh of relief on his neighbor's face as David jogged the distance between them and hoisted the opposite end of the box. 

"Thanks. You're a good kid, you know that?"

David gave a weak smirk in reply. Something inside of him told him this was not a good idea. _It's just guilt,_ he thought, trying to rationalize it._ I just feel bad about breaking my promise. I'll just help him with this and get out of here . Nothing bad is going to happen. _

Nothing bad at all…

* * *


	5. So Close to Closure.

Bloomfield, Kansas  
526 Grant Street  
4:15 P.M.

"David sure was not kidding when he said this was a nice place," Scully said, eying the Watson residence in front of them. It was a single story house built of solid red brick with black shutters and a matching colored roof. 

"Just think," Mulder replied pushing the doorbell, "one day you'll probably have a house just like this, Scully, and be married to some rich, handsome snob with no sense of humor. You'll be wishing you were with me in the middle-of- no-where chasing phantom tanker trucks in no time."

Scully smiled. It was the first time he had sounded like Mulder all day. He had been looking better ever since she had gotten in touch with David, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, he enjoyed seeing the kid as much as she did, if not more. They had really connected the year prior, and they were so much alike it was like they had cloned Mulder. Of course, in her line of work that was entirely likely, but she naturally chose to dismiss it.

The door opened and standing before them was a boy, about twelve years old. "Yeah?" he said.

"We're Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder with the FBI," Scully said, hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing despite the unnatural heat. "I take it you are Robert Watson."

"Y-yeah," Robert stammered. "Is this about that call? I'm sorry I forgot to give it to David. Please don't bust me for interference with Bureau affairs or something like that, I didn't mean to!"

"Relax, kid, we're not here to arrest you," Mulder said. Seeing the panic in the boy's eyes he added, "Well, at least not for this."

"Mulder," Scully said, giving him an elbow in the side and a smile, "don't frighten him. We're here to see David. Is he around?"

"Yeah," Robert said. "He's in his room. It's down that way." He pointed down the hall.

Following the finger's direction, they were led to a door with a large poster proudly proclaiming, "Footos: The Fresh Fighter". Mulder was the one who knocked. 

"Who is it?" David asked quietly. 

_He must be tired,_ Scully thought upon detecting the faintness of his voice.

"FBI," Mulder said, "You're under arrest for…what was it again, Scully? Humiliating a federal agent in **Galaxy Cross**?"

"How about failure to adequately address Christmas cards? My name is not Dana Mulder, you know," Scully said faking an angry tone. 

The door slowly opened, and David smiled at them weakly with a sniffle. "Well, not yet anyway," he said, chuckling weakly. He hugged them.

It felt so good to have him hug her again, but something about him did not look right... For a kid that mowed lawns for money and had a swimming pool in his back yard, he looked awfully pale-a stark contrast to the dark, tanned boy they had seen in the picture. 

"We've missed you, David," Scully said.

"I've missed you guys too," he said, flashing another weak smile. Again, she was expecting a more David-esque smirk. "So why did you come all the way out here?"

Mulder messed up the boy's hair and said, "It's about your neighbor, Mr. Nicolas." His voice stayed calm and professional, pokerfaced to the letter.

David shuttered and turned away from them. His whole body seemed to tremble slightly.

"David, what is it?" Scully asked, instinctively putting her hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't touch me," he said, pushing it away. 

"David, what is it?" she asked, reaching out to comfort him.

"I said don't touch me." His voice was sterner, more desperate this time when he pushed her away. 

Scully looked at Mulder, her face saying, _What is going on here?_

Mulder's heart sank as he ignored the look. "After we called, did you go over to Mr. Nicolas's house?"

David nodded, trembling in the way boys do lest they admit that sometimes they do want to cry.

Mulder turned and jogged back down the hall to the door.

"Mulder? Where are you…?" Scully started, and began a chase after him.

"Robert, which house is Mr. Nicolas's?" Mulder asked, as he opened the front door. 

"It's the one on that side," Robert said, indicating it would be on Mulder's right as he walked out the door. 

Before Scully knew it, he had cleared the lawn and they were at Mr. Nicolas's front door, banging loudly. "Mulder, what's going on? What did he do to David?" Scully asked, her imagination coming up with one horrifying possibility after another. 

"He just got to the 'teaser', trying to put David into his control psychologically. David must have TK blasted him or something before he got very far or else he would not have told us. Don't worry, I won't let him get away this time." Mulder's voice was possessed as he pounded on the door louder than before. 

"'Teaser'? 'This time'? Mulder, what do you mean, 'this time'?"

Inside the house, a stunned Logan Jackson, rubbing his aching side and back, peered through the peephole at the sight standing on his front doorstep. "Well…if it isn't Agent Mulder…" he exclaimed almost gleefully, thoroughly amused to say the least. He chuckled as he turned away and headed for the back.

If the FBI agent on the other side of the door had been able to hear the whispered expression, he too would have been shocked; he had never met Logan Jackson face to face, and he was only a name to the man as far as he knew. 

At the moment he was preparing to break the door down, from around back, a screen door slammed shut. "He's getting away," Mulder said already starting to run. They reached the backyard just in time to see a hand as it disappeared over a fence. "FBI, hold it right there!" Scully shouted as Mulder ran and hopped over the fence in pursuit. She used the gate close by and reached the other side in time to see Mulder pulling his gun, running as fast as he could. 

"FBI! I will shoot!" Mulder shouted, watching the figure turn around some shrubs. He followed and just barely caught site of a foot disappearing behind a shed. There he lost sight of the fugitive but followed the sound of gravel to a stretch of alley. He followed the path until he got to the street, where nothing could be found of the man he was chasing. Scully caught up to him as he was gasping for breath. Mulder swore loudly, drawing the attention and ruining the "virgin ears" children playing in the dirt across the street. "Scully, we almost had him!" he said between gasps of air. 

"It's okay, Mulder, we'll get him." She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"We almost had him…."

* * *


	6. "..."

"This look like the place, Scully?" 

"Well, the address is right. And they were the only DeArman in the book," Scully said as she felt the car come to a gentle stop. Mulder was still keeping her in the dark, but she was starting to get a pretty clear picture of what was going on. They had gone back and searched the main floor of Jackson's house. In the process they found a videotape labeled _Jessica DeArman _in a drawer with what appeared to be receipts. 

She was starting to get scared.

"What was it Robert said about this girl? She was 'weird'?" Mulder said.

"I think the term he used was a little less flattering." They had opted to ask Robert over David because of his emotional state. As it turned out she was in Robert's grade, and in Mr. Nicolas's Algebra class. 

"Well, the house looks normal enough," Mulder said, though he was sure where her "weirdness" came from, and it was not her house. He knocked on the door, and a middle-aged man peeked out cautiously. "FBI," Mulder said, showing his badge. "May we step inside?"

"Uhh, sure," the man said, holding the door open as politely and nervously as most would. "How can I help you?"

"Does a Jessica DeArman live in this residence?" Scully asked. Mulder glanced at her suddenly, surprised that she was asking the questions.

"Yes, ma'am. She's my daughter," he said, sighing a little worried sigh.

"Would you mind if we asked her a few questions?" Mulder asked, taking over the investigation.

"What's going on?"

"She did not do anything wrong, Mr. DeArman. We're investigating one of her teachers, and we think she might be able to give us some information on him," Scully jumped in. She shot Mulder a glance telling him not to try to keep her back, and he gave her one that told her he was not happy she was figuring it all out. Whether he was worried, angry, or disappointed, she could not tell.

"Well…" Mr. DeArman said slowly, "Follow me." He led them down a narrow hallway to a door. He knocked on it softly. "Jessie, there are some people here who want to talk to you."

"Who?"

"Say they're with the FBI."

She did not answer. "Go on in," the man said, holding the door open. "These last few months she hasn't been very talkative; you'll have to forgive her. Her mother and I think it's just that stage of growing up she's going through."

"If you do not mind, we would like to speak to her alone," Mulder said, reinforcing his poker face. 

"Uhh… Okay. Sure, whatever you say," the man said, taking a step back.

Scully shut the door as she followed Mulder into the room. Sitting on the bed was a pitiful looking thing, skinny and pale, her unwashed brown hair uncombed and pressed against her head. She had her nose buried in an Algebra book while her hand moved silently over a piece of paper, adding and figuring mechanically.

"Jessica DeArman?" Scully said slowly.

The girl nodded.

"Can we ask you a few questions? My name is Fox Mulder. I'm an agent with the FBI, and this is my partner Dana Scully."

"I guess," she said.

Mulder sat down slowly next to the girl, letting his eyes land on her paper for only an instant. There was nothing there, but she was still aimlessly moving her pencil over it, as if she wanted something to come out, but nothing would. 

"Jessica," Mulder said softly, "do you know a Mr. Nicolas?"

The blood left her face, but she nodded slightly. 

"Did he ever say or do anything to you that made you uncomfortable?" 

She said nothing.

"Did he?" Mulder pressed.

"Look, why are you asking me all these questions?" she suddenly snapped at him.

"Because we're worried that he may hurt somebody," Scully said, again stepping into the game.

"He," Jessica said, biting her lip, "he… I'm not supposed to talk about it, okay?" Her eyes looked up at Scully, wet with tears.

Mulder looked up at his partner as well. She had a worried look on her face. To anyone else it would not have looked worried, but Mulder had long since learned to recognize the "brave face" she put on so often.

"He made you do things, didn't he? Things that made you embarrassed or ashamed," Mulder said, trying his best not to push too hard yet still get the answers he needed.

She nodded. "Yes."

"He videotaped you, getting it all on film, didn't he?"

Again she nodded.

"Jessica, where did he make you do these things?" Mulder asked.

"In his…" she started, breaking down into tears over memories she had tried so hard to keep pushed away. "In his basement." 

* * *

"What, Mulder, were you hoping to accomplish by that?" Scully said accusingly. Tired from the flight, frustrated that her partner was not telling her things that she needed to know, and scared to death for David she was quick to jump on Mulder about his measures. "If it was a witness you were after, we already have one in David," Scully said as Mulder opened the car door. "I don't think we should be going around upsetting people when it is of this nature unless we have to."

Mulder sat down in his seat, placing his head in his hand. "I was hoping to find his base of operations. Usually he does the videos away from his home in an abandoned warehouse or somewhere of the like. It's not like him to film them in his residence."

"Mulder," Scully said slowly as she shut herself in the car next to her partner, "I think it's time you told me everything you know about this case. No more secrets, no more half-truths. You know more about this case than you have told me, and I want to know what secrets you are hiding from me."

"Who said I was keeping secrets from you?" he replied, forcing a smile, vaguely wondering what the point of continuing the charade was.

"Mulder, who said that you could keep secrets from me? Now, something is bothering you about this case, and while I have my ideas, I want to hear it from your mouth."

"I know, I should have told you before, but I did not want to worry you anymore than I had to," he said in a slow sigh. "About ten years ago, before I ever found the X-Files, I worked a case involving a child pornographer by the name of Logan Jackson."

Scully nodded. She had figured that out for herself, but ever alert, something stuck out in her mind. "Mulder, you worked violent crimes back then. I thought we had an entire division devoted to sex crimes...unless…" She trailed off, and turned away, realization setting in. She thought of David, and she was not sure if she was crying or not, but she felt her partner's hand on her shoulder and it was not enough to give her strength back.

Mulder watched the back of Scully's head. "He has a pattern. In each city he stops at, he makes two videos: the first is purely sexually explicit, with no physical harm coming to the victim, or victims, beyond the sexual molestation and psychological scarring. The second is a snuff film." He watched Scully not move a muscle. "Most of his victims are between the ages of nine and fourteen-"

"Like David…." Scully muttered. "And Jessica was the first…"

"Yes," Mulder said, removing his hand from her shoulder and looking away. "He's insane and sometimes passive aggressive to complete irrationality, but he's also very brilliant. He has never been caught, and he's a master when it comes to making tranquilizers and other sleep-inducing substances. Most of the time, he'll try to befriend his intended victim, and then lure them into his 'projects' often threatening them or their families. If that does not work, he'll use more forceful ways."

"And now he's after David. Oh God, Mulder, I…." She looked like she wanted to cry, but stubborn, hard headed Scully refused to let it out.

Mulder glanced up at her, but quickly put his head back down. This was why he did not want to tell her. "At the time of the investigation, he had abducted a young girl by the name of Angela Shaffer. I swore what he had done to the others would not happen to her. I profiled him and tracked him down to an old warehouse, and…I was too late. Angela was dead, and Jackson got away-crossed borders-making sure I was powerless to stop him. 

"I failed, Scully. I will never live that down."

"I'm sorry," she said as he looked at her sadly.

He smiled through wet eyes and put the car in motion. The Watsons' house was on the opposite side of town. When they arrived the sun was starting to set, casting a brilliant display of glamour, a last hoorah of the daylight before the darkness took over. "I think David needs somebody to talk to," Mulder said as he put the car in park. 

"So do I, Mulder," Scully replied.

"You're better at it than I am," he said, turning to look at her. 

"And where will you be?"

"I was going to head over to the police station to see if we can get an APB out for Logan Jackson."

Scully stepped out of the car and expected the headlights to blink out, but they did not. She strolled over to Mulder's side as he rolled down the window to hear her. "Aren't you coming inside for a little bit?" 

"No, I-I'd rather get this out in a hurry. I don't want to waste anymore time catching the suspect. Don't worry; I'll wait until you get inside."

She walked up the concrete walk, giving a final glance at her partner before knocking on the door. _It's guilt. He can't face David because somewhere he thinks that what David went through this afternoon is his fault. It's not. I know Mulder. He would have done everything in his power to catch Jackson, and if he did not then no one else could have either. _ The door opened, and an excited Robert greeted her…sort of. "Hey Matt, I was …oh. It's you." Scully watched his expression change to a disappointed frown. It was amusing to say the least. "If you're looking for David, he's not here."

"He's not?" she asked, her words rushed. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. He just walked out saying he had some thinking to do."

"Mulder!" Scully shouted, waving her arms and hopping off the front step. He was already backing out of the drive. "Mulder! Wait!"

"Well, don't say 'thank you'," Robert mumbled as he shut the door.

"What is it?" Mulder asked when she opened the passenger side door.

"David's not here."

"He's not? If he lays one finger on David, I'll kill that son of a - "

"Mulder, no. He just left on his own."

Mulder sighed with relief. "Do we need to go look for him?"

"I don't think so. How about if we drop you off at the police station and I go look for David? I have a hunch as to where he might be."

* * * 


	7. Like snowflakes in your hand...

The bark of the tree against his back was uncomfortable no matter which way he fidgeted, but still David sat against the tall maple. With his knees pulled not far from his chest, he sat with his arms folded over them, staring at the quietness around him. What had it been, a year, since he had met Mulder and Scully? They had been the best thing that had ever happened to him in his young life, and he still could not be believe it had been a year. _Wow _he thought_ a whole year._ So much had happened to him in the year. His parents and sister dying, being investigated by Mulder and Scully, moving in with the Watsons, meeting Heather... Sometimes life seemed to go too fast, to pull him down with all the weight put on him; he was only thirteen, and he could only hold so much. Sometimes he just had to stop and think-to let it all just kind of stir around in his mind. 

This was where he liked to do it. It was a shady spot, in the middle of the park inside a circle of trees. It was hard to see the clearing from the outside, but from inside, he could see the sky as the moon started to sneak onto its throne. It was here a year ago when he had broken down under the weight, when he had decided to come clean about his family's deaths with Mulder and Scully to support him.

With the exception of that night one year ago, it was always quiet in this spot, never much of a sound except for the occasional bird chirping, or branch rustling beneath a squirrel's frame. It was like the whole world and everything wrong in it was shut out, and he could just be alone to deal with whatever troubles he had at the moment. No one knew about this place except for him. No one knew he came here.

"I thought I might find you here."

David looked to his side to see Scully, her black over coat gently waving in the breeze in sync with here flowing red hair. She remembered, and he had to smile at her. She returned a small, thin smile at him. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I came looking for you," she replied. She took a few steps, taking in her surroundings, perhaps remembering. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thinking. I like to come here to do it. It helps me remember the good ol' days."

She chuckled. "Like when you had Mulder suspended three feet in the air?"

David bit his tongue, and the sly smile she had missed earlier crossed his face. "I like to leave that part out."

Scully let out a small laugh as she looked down at the ground. David heard it as he felt his smile fade away and a shudder go down the back of his spine. 

"David," she said slowly in her caring tone he had not realized he missed, "do you want to talk about anything?"

David shook his head slowly, almost weakly, and rested his chin on his arms folded across his knees. He was trying not to think about what had happened, it was better to pretend it had not, right?

David listened to the soft crackling of leaves and twigs and Scully removed the space between them, and he felt the arm brush up against him as she lowered herself to the ground. For a long while, they said nothing. Finally she broke the silence. "You know, David, ever since I met you, I've admired your strength."

He raised his head, his eye meeting hers out of the corner. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"The way you carry on. Not many people have the courage you do, and not many have to use it to the extent you do at your age. The fact that you can put up with what you have, and still be the remarkable, charming young man you are amazes me every time." She looked down at her hands. "I don't know how you do it."

"I don't know how I'm going to do it anymore," David said, just above a whisper.

Scully put her arm around him. "David, what happened today…"

"No, it's not just that. It's…it's everything. Always before, I just wouldn't think about it; I'd pretend it was all a bad dream and think of something else. Now, every time I shut my eyes, I know I can't turn to or trust anyone anymore. My mom was always beating me, Dad was always yelling at her. Kris is dead. And now Mr. Nicolas turns out to be some kind of…" He trailed off shaking his head and looked at Scully, breaking her heart with his pitiful brown eyes. "Everyone I'm supposed to be able to trust has left me."

"David," she said, pulling him close to her. "You have me. And you have Mulder. The Watsons are there for you too." She paused between her statements, hoping that the words would sink in. 

"I," he started, trying to force it through, "I wonder, sometimes, if this isn't all my fault."

Scully's tone returned from encouraging to serious. "David, what do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, looking away, "I mean, what if I had never been born? Maybe Mom and Dad never would have fought so much if I hadn't been around, or if I had been a better kid. Maybe then she wouldn't have taken it out so much on Kris. I almost killed Mulder. I don't know where my telekinesis comes from; don't you think that scares me? I mean, what if Mom was right? What if I am some kind of devil and all this bad stuff is happening to people because of me?" He broke down, burying his face in his arms. A long, steady stream of tears flowed after years of being ignored and kept in.

"Shh," Scully said, her arms perfectly fitting around him. "None of these things happened because of you. Your parents fought because they made mistakes; none of which were your fault. They were theirs. You are a very special person, David. You're caring; you're witty. I don't know where your gift comes from, but you have too many redeeming qualities to be any kind of embodiment of evil. "

"Thanks," David said, giving a small laugh. "Bet you never thought you would say that and mean it seriously." He looked away again and wiped his eyes. "I'm crying like a baby."

"It's okay, I won't tell anybody," Scully joked and watched him get to his feet. He offered her his hand to help her up, and she took it, noticing how cold it felt against her skin. "What do you say we go pick up Mulder, then go for some ice cream?"

"Yeah…that would be good." David replied. 

The sun was almost gone as Scully stepped out from behind the trees. She watched as the young boy followed along beside her, him never really looking up from the ground. It was hard to believe she was looking at a child; he had been through so much in his short life. It was not fair that he had to endure it, and sometimes it made her angry-angry at his parents, angry at the world-just to think about it. 

"I'm just going to call Mulder and let him know we're coming," Scully said, whipping out her cellular phone. Her head turned slowly as she looked at David. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No, no," he said, grinning broadly. "It' just that you pulled that sucker out of there like 'Action-Hero-Scully'."

"Very funny," she said, as they reached the car. The passenger side was closest to them, and Scully hit the speed dial for Mulder on her phone, giving a tap on the hood as she went around to her side.

"Mulder," his voice said.

"Mulder, it's me," she replied, opening her door. David's slammed at the same moment. "Are you up for a little ice cream?"

"You buying?"

"Sure, why not?" she said, sitting down in her seat. "Ow!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What is it?" Mulder asked, concern already in his voice.

"It's nothing," Scully said, using the muscles in her legs to push herself above the seat. "Something pricked me, and…" Her voice stopped. Something was sticking out of the seat. Something small, shiny, and sharp. She reached between the crack of the seat, and felt her jaw drop as she realized she was looking at a syringe.

"Scully?" Mulder asked frantically. The noise in the police station made it hard enough for him to hear. "Scully?" Still, there was no answer, but over the rumbles around him he thought her heard a small groan. Then there was nothing but the steady sound of the car horn like somebody had laid down on it.

"Scully!" Mulder shouted, ready to turn off the phone. Before he could, a voice sounding like the serpent that tempted Eve came through it. 

"Is this Fox Mulder?"

"Yes," Mulder said, fear creeping into his voice, him doing his best to keep it veiled. "Who is this?" he asked, as if pretending not to know would make the truth less likely.

"This is Logan Jackson. I'm here with some…friends…of yours."

"Listen here, you bastard, you do anything to either one of them and I swear I'll-"

"You swear you'll what? Take me to jail? You couldn't do it the first time, now could you? What makes you think you'll get lucky this time?"

Mulder started to respond, though the words had not come to him, but the dial tone of the phone cut him off. For a long, intense moment he just stood there, feeling the pounding in his chest as his heart jumped between his stomach and his throat. Then he shouted over the noise to the nearest police officer, "I want that APB changed. Now we're not only looking for the suspect, but we're looking for kidnapping victims as well."

* * *


	8. The Nail

He does not even notice as the car nearly slams into the house. All he knows is that two people he cares the most about are in danger, and he views it all as his fault. He figures he's lost almost everything-his family, his life for his quest-he'll be dead before he loses anything-or anyone-else. 

Mulder slammed the car door as hard as he could, not intentionally, but because of the anger-the fear-that flowed through his body. Before he knew it, he was at the door, standing on the front step, and the feeling he had got when he had reached the car in the park, its doors still open but no one inside, returned to him. It was like a metal nail. Cold and hard, it blocked his throat, making it hard to swallow the deep gulp he took as he turned the doorknob, not surprised that it was locked despite him and Scully leaving it unlocked that afternoon. It stabbed at his stomach, hot and sharp, as he raised his foot, pulled back his leg, and kicked out as hard as he could. 

The door, though in decent enough shape, was old and crumbled easily beneath the strength of the desperate man. Mulder, flashlight in hand and gun prepared, took the step into the dark. 

The small beam of light threw as many shadows as it removed, shadows that coward and feared the light. Going from room to room, Mulder saw only more shadows, nothing that he was looking for. The house was quiet; just the way any normal person's house would be. The couch, the TV, the oak coffee table… it was all so normal, so innocent. Nothing in the house would give any indication that it knew the secret Logan Jackson kept from his neighbors, friends, and co-workers. 

Mulder shivered and bit the top of his lip. There was no one in the house, unless they were in the basement. 

The basement.

Mulder's breath stopped, his lungs ceased to work, as his hand left its cold, miserable sweat on the brass doorknob that guarded the descent into the basement. As his hand wrapped around the knob, Mulder could not help but remember what he had seen the last time he had stood before a door in this same situation. 

* * *

"Shh," the man said, as he tied the gag around her throat. It made the corners of her mouth ache, but she barely noticed it over the sound of her heart throwing itself against her sternum. "You have to be quiet," he continued, stepping out in front of her. "David's in the next room, asleep. The drugs will take longer to ware off of his smaller body; I don't want you to wake him. He needs his rest." 

His grin made her skin crawl.

Scully wanted to slap him, to punch that grin off of his face, to just hurt him in anyway. To keep David out of harm. Scully tensed all of her muscles, struggling against the ropes that hugged her wrists and ankles to the chair. The chair bounced slightly with her movement, making a light rapping sound on the old hardwood floor.

"Don't. You'll just make yourself tired," Jackson said, looking her over, "and you'll want your strength too." She watched as his eyes started at her feet, followed them as they traced her legs, up her waist, over her chest, and finally met them as they looked into her face. Cold sweat embraced her fear.

"I looked at your badge. It's not really a good picture of you; it doesn't capture the unique angelic sculpture of your face." He stepped closer, standing close enough that she could touch him if her arm were free. Standing close enough he could touch her... "You're a very beautiful woman, Dana," he said, pushing his bony fingers through her hair which was clinging to her scalp, fused with nervous sweat. 

She turned her head, trying to get as far away as she could from those fingers. He chuckled at the movement, both at the action and the futileness of it all. "Well, I suppose I should check on David," Jackson said, his footsteps seeming loud and painful against Scully's ears as he walked to the door and opened it. Before stepping out, he added, "He's a good kid, you know. I almost hate to do this to him." 

As he stepped out, Scully noticed a bulge in his back pocket. Something shiny and silver was sticking out. It looked like a camera.

_Mulder,_ Scully thought, saying a little prayer at the same time. _Where are you?_

* * *

_Where are you, Scully?_ Mulder thought as the old wooden stairs creaked beneath the weight of each step he took. His flashlight's glow danced desperately around the musky little room. The mustiness of the room met him, but the sight he wanted to see, the one he feared the most, did not. Scully and David were nowhere to be seen, but in the corner there was a box. When he went to it, Mulder pulled open the top, looking in and finding it was full of video tapes. There were at least thirty in the one box, and there were three boxes. Each one was the story of at least one victim, of at least one innocence lost. A tale of at least one childhood being torn away from hands that were not ready to have it taken.

Mulder kicked the box as hard as he could, not caring about destroying evidence. The only thing important was that Scully and David were in danger. He had to find them, had to continue searching, no matter what, he had to find them. He had to.

_But where do I look?_

Mulder listened to the clang as his gun and flashlight dropped to the cold, concrete floor. He felt the cardboard against his back as he leaned against the box on the floor next to them. _Think, Mulder,_ he told himself._ Think. Don't waste time tearing yourself up over this, get inside of his head. You've done it a thousand times, and you have to do it now. Okay, okay… He's going to want someplace quiet, where there will not be any people. Probably a larger building with interior rooms so that people walking by won't see in. He needs power for lights and the camera,…but he did the last one in his basement. That goes completely against his usual tendencies. What if he does something completely different, something totally random? How do I find him then? _

The silence of the room, and the noise of his thoughts, was broken by the ringing of his phone. The sudden change startled Mulder, making him jump to his feet. Deep down, his hope got up. There was a chance the person on the other line was Scully. A small one, but she was a strong woman. Maybe it was her. Maybe… "Mulder." 

* * *

David groaned. His side ached in the way it does any time you sleep on the floor, or someplace equally uncomfortable. He rolled over, coughing as the movement kicked up the dust on the floor. Everything felt like a blur; it was all so cloudy. _Where am I?_ he thought, rubbing his eyes, trying to make the clouds go away. "Dana!" he shouted, realization dawning through the haze. He looked around frantically, seeing only cracked windows overlooking tree tops, tables long since beyond use, a lap top computer looking out of place with its newness, and a chalkboard covered in dust and long since forgotten. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position with his hand, hesitating to look behind him. 

Behind him was a group of tables, about four of them, pushed together with a blanket draped over their tops. On the blanket were pillows. Soft, comfortable looking pillows. Not far from the tables was a tripod, a video camera already set upon it. David's breathing quickened as he forced himself to his feet, noticing a small stool next to the camera, a metal tray resting on top of it. The tray was empty. 

_I have to get out of here,_ David thought. He rushed to a window and tried to force it open, but the years kept it from budging. He heard the door start to creak open, as he pushed at the window harder, not caring that he was on the second floor of the building, and it would have done him no good anyway. It was better than staying in the room with the man stepping inside.

"Well, David! I'm surprised to see you up and about," Jackson said pleasantly. "I apologize for the accommodations; they were the best I could do on such short notice." 

David stood staring at him, not saying a word, fear and hatred crossing over his face. "Where's Dana?" he demanded.

"Aww, how adorable. Look at you. All ready to play hero," Jackson said with a smile one would give to a child dressing up as his father.

"Tell me where she is, or I swear to God I'll…"

"You'll what? Pull that little trick you did earlier?" The smile faded away, taking the pleasantness with it. His teeth gritted, his voice angry. "I don't know what you are, or how you did what you did, but you will not-you will _not_-do it again. Do you understand?" 

"Oh yeah?" David said with a smirk that told Jackson David knew he could take him out with the thought and that he remembered what he did to him earlier. "How are you going to stop me?"

"I can't really," Jackson said. "But then again, I can't guarantee I won't hurt that delightful little redhead that came along with you either…"

David's eyes grew wide as he watched all hope die right there in the center of the room. 

Jackson took his turn to smirk with glee. "If you don't mind, take off your shoes and socks and make yourself comfortable," Jackson said, walking to the tray and picking it up. He turned to leave the room, tray in hand, but before shutting the door he added, "We'll start filming in a few moments." 

* * *

"Mulder?" the voice on the other end said. "It's Byers. We found that site you wanted. It took some doing - finally got some bozo to break down and spill it in a chat room - but...well…I think you need to see this."

"What's the URL?" Mulder asked, already up the stairs and into the den. He was in front of Jackson's computer by the time Byers had finished telling him the address. It felt like an eternity as the dial-up connection went through its business, and by the time it had finished, Mulder already had the browser searching for the site. 

It was another long, breathless moment as the site loaded and at last came to view.

Mulder's breath did not return to him, unable to move past an even larger nail in his throat and stomach.

On the site was a picture of David, unconscious on the floor, wearing the baggy jeans and button-up shirt he had been wearing earlier. Over the image were the words "Coming Soon! _Songs in the Key of David_!" Mulder swallowed hard, not noticing the pain as the saliva forced its way past the nail through the dryness of his throat. "And for those with more 'mature' tastes, a special one-time only offer…" he read, following the words to an image of Scully, tied to a chair, unconscious and helpless. "…the FBI's most wanted- Dana Scully!"

* * *


	9. Gabriel's Tears

"Oh my god," Mulder mumbled, unaware he had said anything, his voice barely a whisper. There was no telling what Jackson had already done to them-what he was going to do to them. Mulder's eyes began to search the pictures desperately for anything, anything that could tell him where they were. 

The picture of David showed nothing more than the floor, maybe a table leg. The floor was dirty and dusty. It was a building that had been left alone for some time. That was about all he received from David's photograph. The image of Scully told him a little more. Behind her head he could see tables, tables and chairs. On one of the tables there were beakers and a couple of test tubes. Behind those was a chalkboard.

A school.

In a flash, Mulder was out the door and in the car, engine roaring as he recklessly spun out of the driveway. He fumbled with his phone in his right hand, trying his best to not let his madness run him off the road with the left, and he clumsily dialed a number.

* * *

"Robert, honey, do you know where David is?"

"I don't know. He said something about going out for a walk, then that FBI lady came by…" 

"FBI lady? What FBI lady?" Kelly Watson said, turning away from the window she had been searching for her foster son out of for the last hour. 

"Uhh...I forgot her name. She was here earlier." Robert's words exited his mouth as the phone rang. "I'll get it! I bet it's Matt!" he shouted, sliding around the corner of the doorway and into the kitchen. 

"Hello," he answered. 

"Robert? Listen, I need your help," the voice on the other end said. It was a male voice, and he sounded like he was out of breath or worried or something.

"Who is this?" Robert asked.

"It's Agent Mulder. Look, I need-"

"Oh, you…"

"Robert, listen to me!" he shouted.

"Jeeze, you don't have to comp an attitude, man," Robert said indignantly.

"Listen here, you little cretin, I don't have time for any games. I need you to tell me if there's an abandoned school around here."

"No. No wait, there's the old junior high."

The man sighed. "And where is that at?"

"Well, I don't know if I should tell you since you're calling me names and all…"

"Damn it, Robert!"

"Okay, okay!" _ What the heck crawled up this guy and died? _ "It's on West Lucas Street. Go south on the street that goes in front of Kelly's Café and take a right."

There was a moment of silence, and then the beep that told him the man had hung up.

"Yeah, don't say 'thank-you' or anything," Robert muttered under his breath as he slammed the phone back on the receiver. "Jeeze, you'd think his life depended on him finding that stupid school."

* * *

_ Lousy no good little…_ Mulder was going in the wrong direction; Kelly's Café was behind him on the other side of town, and time was running out quickly. As he again fumbled with the phone, finding it a lot harder to dial three numbers than it had been to dial seven, he slammed the steering wheel hard to the left, feeling the inertia pull against him as he U turned in the street. 

He had the call sent before he regained his orientation, and by the time the operator answered, he had swerved around a corner, nearly taking out a silver Thunderbird. 

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder. I need you to put me through to police dispatch." "One moment, please."

* * *

It started as a shiver at the base of his neck. Then slowly it crept its way down his back, careful to make sure it traced each of his ribs in session, then it made its way to his stomach where it stayed coiled up in a tight knot that made David Anderson want to throw up. 

_I have to be brave. For Dana. Fox will come, right? He'll make it,_ he tried to tell himself, though as each eternity of each second passed, the hope he managed to build up thinned, and the falsity of it all began to show through. _But Fox will come. _He was holding on to it now, clinging to it desperately. He had to stay brave, and this was the only thing that he could draw strength from.

"Fox will come."

"Well, David," Jackson said softly, shutting the door as he returned with the tray. "Are we ready to begin?" David was almost as tall as the man that stood before him, but now, while David sat on the table, barefoot and cold, scared and alone, helpless in every way, he seemed like a giant. Not really a giant, but more like a shadow. Something that exists in darkness that you know is there but can never get a good look at, and if you do, its intangibility makes it impossible to touch, impossible to harm, and impossible to get away from.

David bit his tongue and held his breath while Jackson arranged the items on the tray. Desperate to focus his mind on something other than fear, David pushed himself up, straining his neck to the right, just to see what was in the tray. 

What he saw made the knot in his stomach move up. Up into his throat, burning as it went, leading the contents of his stomach to his mouth, where there was no room to hold them, and they ended up on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked. "Is the drug making you sick?" 

David did not answer him, the cold sweat now covering his body making him shiver with the reinforced cold.

"I'm going to take that as a 'Yes. I'm okay, Mr. Nicolas.'"

David shot him a death glare.

"This will be a lot better for both of us if you cooperate. Of course, some of my viewers enjoy it when the 'star' plays hard to get."

His voice was so calm as he said the words, like it was an every day thing one would not think about twice about doing should the whim arise. The calmness was what frightened David the most. Though he did not know it consciously, deep down, beyond the realm of his active mind, he knew that it meant his neighbor had done this many, many times before.

* * *

The wall that separated Scully from David was thin enough that she could hear their voices coming through it. She could not make out the words, but by the tones she could make their meaning well enough. 

In the time she had been alone and conscious, she had managed to bounce herself, chair and all, to the side of a table with old lab equipment on it. Judging by the looks, the room had at one time been a science classroom, chemistry perhaps, as there were now glass beakers deserted on the table. 

She had a plan. Not a very good one, no, but anything was better than feeling helpless. With her knees under the table, she tipped her chair back until they touched the underside, her feet no longer on the floor. The table shook slightly, lifting one of its ends off the ground-the exact reaction she had hoped for. Now she only prayed what she wanted to happen would.

She lowered herself back to the floor, and took a deep breath. She held it, and rocked back again harder than before, lifting her knees up as high as the ropes would allow. Her knees collided with the table with a thud, kicking the legs inches off the ground. The beaker precariously perched on top crashed to the floor, shattering into dozens of jagged, glinting pieces. 

Once she was again in a fully seated position, Scully bit her lip, expecting to hear the door open with the noise of the crashing glass. Jackson, preoccupied, hard of hearing, or whatever never came, and she finally realized she was holding her breath the entire time. 

She took a moment and a few more deep breaths to regain her composure. She pulled her weight to the left and as hard as she could, pushed it back to the right. The force carried her over as she had hoped, and she landed painfully on her side amidst the shards of glass. She could feel them digging into her arm like a thousand jagged teeth thirsting after a meal they had waited lifetimes for.

She ignored the pain of her throbbing shoulder and the cuts on her arm as best she could and let her hand search for a suitable piece. She cut her finger, feeling the warm blood as it slowly leaked out as she grabbed one of suitable size. Then she pressed it to the ropes, and began to saw.

_ Hold on, David. Come on, Mulder…_

* * *

Jackson walked over to the camera adjacent to where David was sitting and turned it on. "Okay, David, could you please face this way?" David obliged slowly, never taking his scornful eyes off of the man. "Let's start with an upper body shot. Could you take your shirt off for us, David?"

"You're sick, did you know that?" David said, ignoring the request. "Getting off on kids…that's disgusting!"

"Oh, David. David David David," Jackson said, amused. "You're a cute kid, I'll give you that, but don't flatter yourself. I honestly could not be any less physically attracted to you or to any of my 'stars'.

"This," he continued, motioning around him, "I do for the love of art. I'm an artist. On film I'm capturing the human struggle, a cavalcade of emotions ranging from fear to sorrow all the way to grief. I'm a modern day da Vinci! I do it for art…but mostly…_mostly_…I _stay_ in it for the money."

"Money? This is about _money_?" David said in angered disbelief. "God, you're a messed up son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"Shh, watch your tongue, David. Intelligent young men like you should never swear. Now, if you don't mind, take off your shirt." He held up Scully's badge folded with his fingers covering everything else but her picture. "Or else."

* * * 

Somewhere behind him Mulder heard a horn honk, and he could almost hear the driver's swearing. He did not care. It did not matter. Only three things mattered at the moment: Scully, David, and time.

"Please, David, Scully, hold on. Hold on…" Mulder whispered from bottom of his soul as he past Kelly's Café breaking at least two major traffic laws.

* * *

If there had been anything left in his stomach, David probably would have thrown up again.

"Nice," Jackson said, eying the boy as he walked over to him. "Don't worry, I'll take my face out in editing. I don't want to distract from you, star." He let out a chuckle that raised every goose bump David had ever had to the surface of his pale, pale, skin. 

David shut his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to focus on nothing, to tune out everything around him as Jackson ran his bony, sinister finger over the his cheek. In the back of his mind, David could feel his telekinesis building, ready to be released at a moment's noticed. It was ready to jump to action, it wanted to jump to action, to get this horrible man away from him, but David held it back. _No, I have to be strong for Dana. Fox will come. Fox **will** come._

It was harder to believe now more than ever, but he still believed in the three little words.

"You are a cute young man, David. I bet you get lots of girls, don't you?" Jackson said, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, massaging them in a vain attempt to relax him. It only made the lump that was blocking his throat and the one that had filled the void in his stomach his food had left behind grow even larger. David shut his eyes tighter, doing his best to ignore it all. To try to think of something happy…

Jackson sighed. "Still with the silent treatment, eh? I'm trying to be patient with you, but you're not making this easy."

David kept his eyes shut as tight as possible, so tight that it hurt the sides of his face. He tried to ignore the voice that told him to fight back, he tried to think of happy things…

Jackson continued. "Look, the sooner we get done here, the sooner I can get to that delicious red-head you brought with you."

David's eyes snapped open, his blood grew hot, and for the first time in the last several minutes, all the lumps in his stomach and throat were gone. His face grew red, and he turned to look the man behind him straight in his eyes.

Then the voice that told him to fight got its wish.

One quick, violent burst of energy from the boy's mind sent the man flying across the room, knocking over a table, and crashing with the wall hard enough that it almost shook off the chalkboard that rested on it.

Jackson groaned amongst the rubble as David sat seething, not thinking, but loathing everything about the crumpled man in front of him. 

"Why you little…" Jackson screamed angrily as he pulled himself from the carnage. His hand balled up into a fist, and before David could react, the man was upon him.

And the hatred had again subsided to fear.

* * *

Scully heard the crash, the angry screams. Her eyes grew wider each time she heard the horrifying sound of flesh meeting flesh and bone, the chilling muffled screams of a brave soldier trying to be strong and keep them in, and the awful awful scene that played in her mind of what she would find. 

Her ropes were halfway cut through, and she began to saw faster and faster, possibly cutting herself in the process, but she no longer cared.

The only thing that was important to her as her heart bounced in and out of her chest was in the next room, screaming her name.

* * *


	10. When Angels Smile

Jackson swore under his breath at the mangled heap of humanity in the floor before him. David had made him lose his temper, and now he had lost the chance to film. 

He had lost money. 

"Do you have any idea how much many you just cost me, David?" Jackson screamed, leaning over to the tray and picking up an object. "Do you? Answer me!" 

David mumbled incoherently, face down in his blood. 

"I had eighteen preorders on your tape already. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he shouted, pulling the boy's head up by the hair so he could look him in the eye. "That's fifty bucks per tape you cost me, and all the other orders I will never be able to fill. Do you know how much money that is David? Do you!?" 

Jackson produced the knife he had removed from the tray and placed it against the boy's throat. "That's a lot of money, David. A _lot_ of money. And now," he brought the knife closer, "I'm going to-" 

Jackson gasped as a hand violently jerked him up by the collar of his shirt. Its fingers wasted no time in finding his neck, squeezing every breath out of it as the hand slammed him against the wall, bouncing his head off the hard concrete blocks. It did again. And then again to hammer the point home. 

And then Jackson felt the cold barrel of a handgun jammed against the middle of his throat. 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off right now, you son-of-a-bitch," Mulder said. There was no emotion in his voice, no indication that he had ever had a soul.. 

"Oh, Mulder. Mulder Mulder," Jackson said, his rage disappearing into calmness. Mulder was too far gone to say anything about being recognized. "You want a reason? I'll give you one. You kill me, and you never find Agent Scully." 

"Nice try, she's in this school," Mulder said, pushing the barrel into Jackson's throat. 

Jackson smiled smugly. "Is she? Are you so sure about that? How do you know I haven't hid her somewhere else? Did you see her? When was that? How do you know she's still here? How do you know I haven't tied her up in the back of some junkyard on the other side of town in the time it took you to get here?" He leaned in close, and whispered in Mulder's ear, "Can you really take the chance?" 

Each word was a knife in his chest, but Mulder held onto the man's throat. It would be so easy to just pull the trigger, to put him away, and to shut him up permanently. He would never be able to hurt anybody ever again if he was dead, but Mulder may never find Scully. He had not bothered searching the school, finding David only by following the screams. What if Scully was not in the school anymore? How could he ever find her? How could he ever go on if he did not find her? Mulder, pushing reluctancey to the limit, released his hold on the man's throat, and slowly put his gun away. "You're under arrest." 

"No. It's not going to work like that," Jackson said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a cellular phone. 

Scully's.

He dialed 911, but held off on pushing send to complete the call. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to walk out of this building, and into my car without any kind of harassment or police following me. You did think to call the police this time, didn't you?" 

Mulder said nothing. 

"Then once I'm over the state line, I'm going to complete the call and tell them where Scully is." Jackson smiled and looked over towards David. "In the mean time, I'd see about getting him to a hospital." 

Mulder's heart bypassed his stomach and fell straight to the floor, where it either died or evaporated to nothingness as he leaned down over the boy. As he took off his jacket and wrapped the child in it, he thought about the first time he had held the boy back when David needed a shoulder to mourn the loss of his sister. He had been there for him then, but this time he had not. He knew he had failed. He knew Jackson was going to get away again. He knew another life would be on his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"Whoa. If this isn't déjà vu," Jackson said suddenly. 

Mulder bit the bottom of his lip, as he slid his arm beneath David's limp neck. 

"You know, I hung around a bit when you showed up the last time," Jackson stated. "I watched as you picked her up and held her in your arms. I watched as you pressed her head against your chest as you tried in vain talking to her. I watched the expression of your face as you watched the girl die right there in your arms, Mulder. Right there in your arms, Mulder! It was much like the way you're holding him now. 

"What's that feel like Mulder? To be no better than me… to have innocent blood spilled on your hands?" 

Tears began to form in Mulder's eyes, and the stream began its decent as he clutched the boy closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to punch that smile right off of Jackson's face, to kill him right there on the spot. But he couldn't. He could just sit back while his partner-his best friend-remained missing, this child died in his arms, and the killer got away. 

All for the second time. 

Jackson smiled smugly, grinning as he watched the pained lines that crossed Mulder's face. _Even better than the first time,_ he thought, as he took the first step out of the doorway and into the hall. 

He may not have gotten his tape, but he was a free man yet again. And seeing Mulder's face had all been worth it. _And now I'm going to walk out of the building Scott free._

That was the last thing that went through his mind as the fist collided with his stomach knocking the air out of him, the knee connected with his midsection no doubt bruising some organs, and the elbow cracked against the base of his skull leaving him in a heap on the floor. 

"You're under arrest," Dana Scully said, tying his hands with the remnants of the rope she untied from her ankles. "And be thankful that I chose to be professional," she hissed, making sure to slam his face on the ground as hard as she could. 

"Mulder, I…oh my god…" Scully said, swallowing hard as she saw Mulder step over the captive, carrying the limp body of David. "Mulder, you…you shouldn't be moving him…" It took everything she had to follow Mulder as he walked around the hall and down the stairs. She wished it was her his arms were around. 

"I have to, Scully," he said coldly. He didn't sound like Mulder at all. "He's barely breathing; by the time the ambulance gets here, it will be too late." 

When they stepped outside, they were met by the stunned gasps of a dozen police officers just arriving. One of them walked up to Scully, wanting to ask what they should do, but he was unable to take his eyes off the child in Mulder's arms. "The suspect's on the second floor," Scully said weakly. The officer motioned for the others to follow him into the building. 

It was a long walk to the car. Scully opened the back door at Mulder's direction and climbed in, and he put the child in the seat with his head on her lap. Mulder drove while Scully did her best to administer medical attention in the back seat.

There was not much she could do.

He was covered with blood, his breathing just barely detectable. There was a good chance he would not make it to the hospital. Unable to stop them as she wiped the blood out of the boy's eyes, tears began to fall down Scully's face. She remembered the time one year ago when for one week, for one perfect week, they had been a family, and she began to cry amongst the tears. 

"David, please don't die," she whispered. "Please. Don't die." 

"Dana?" he replied. It was a whisper, one Scully could just barely hear, but it was there. 

"It's me. You're going to be okay," she lied. 

"Are you…?" 

"I'm I what?" 

"…okay?" 

"I'm fine, David," she said through tears, unable to keep from smiling at his selflessness. 

"Good," he said, even softer than he had said anything else. 

David said nothing else after that.. 

* * *

Janus Medical Hospital  
Sunday  
5:44 P.M.

"Mulder, where have you been?" Scully asked from her chair in the waiting room. She had been there all day and was thoroughly sick it and worrying. David slipped in and out of consciousness all night, and the nurses were reluctant to give out information. Her partner had disappeared somewhere around noon, and now he walked in like he had the weight of the whole world on the top of shoulders that he shrugged in response to her question. 

His eyes never met hers, and he looked pale as he sat down in a chair next to her. "David just woke up," she said. "The Watsons are in with him now, but we can visit him for a few minutes when they are done." 

Mulder only nodded, his eyes still staring off into nothing. 

"The nurse said he had a concussion or two, three cracked ribs, a black eye, and a ton of bruises, but he should make a full recovery." 

Again Mulder only nodded like he was not the one in his body at all. 

Scully's hand moved to his, and she took it off of his lap and held it in her warm grasp. Her eyes looked into his, comforting and supportive, and they cracked his shell. . 

"I failed, Scully. I failed David like I failed Angela. Like I failed Samantha and my father." He looked straight at her, his face that of a desperate, desperate man with his last hold on the thread of what was once his life. "Like I've failed you." 

Scully was taken aback. "Mulder, you've never failed me."

He smiled a little. "Don't try to protect me, Scully. How many times have you been taken - put in harms way - all because of my obsessive, maniacal quest for the truth? How many people have died or had their lives ruined because I didn't act in the right way? Samantha would be here right now if I had not frozen and choked up. Angela would still be alive, and David wouldn't have spent the night fighting death had I acted differently."

"You know what, Mulder, you're right," Scully said sternly. "You're right. David wouldn't have been in there fighting death if it had not been for you; he would be dead."

He gave her an odd, barely noticeable smirk that said, _Don't waist your time, Scully, it's pointless, _but she chose to ignore it.

"Mulder, you have never failed me. I took this job on my own; I knew the risks. No matter what has happened, you have always been there for me, supported me. You've saved me more times than I can count, whether it was just going out of your way to make me smile or traipsing down to the Antarctic to pull me out of alien goo."

He chuckled.

"You're only human. You could not have prevented Angela's death. I know you, Mulder, and if you couldn't do it I doubt anyone else could have either. You can't keep blaming yourself because you're only one man."

Mulder let out a deep breath as he felt Scully's arm around him and her cheek pressed against the top of his hair as he leaned on her shoulder. "It's hard," he said.

"I know," she replied. "But you have me. I'll be there for you, just like you've been there for me."

Mulder smiled a little, sad smile.

"David's been through so much. He didn't need this to carry with him," Mulder said. 

"Agent Scully? Mulder?" Mrs. Watson said before Scully could reply. She was leading her husband and son out of David's room. "He's still weak, but he wants to talk to you." 

They stood slowly, giving the foster parents a smile and a nod as the stepped in. David grinned at them as best he could amongst the tubes and bandages when he saw them. "Hey," he said, his words struggled.

"Hey," Scully said, so happy to see him smiling. "How are you feeling?" she asked, resting her hands on the side of his bed. Mulder walked around to the foot.

He chuckled. "I've been better."

"Well, just hang in there. You'll be breaking hearts again before you know it," Mulder said. _God…_ Every time he looked at the boy, he could only think,_ Oh, God, I did this to him._

"Yeah," David said. The room was silent for a while, except the steady sounds of the equipment David was being monitored by.

He started to shut his eyes for a moment but opened them almost as soon as his eyelid touched the bottom of his eye. He looked at Scully and saw she was frowning. Wondering what could be wrong, he noticed the bandage on her arm. "Hey, what happened to you?" he asked, trying to raise himself up.

"I cut myself on some glass last night," she said.

"Did he do that?"

"No."

"Good," David said, lying back down. "If he did, I'd have to hunt him down and hurt him." 

It was meant in a good way, but it made Scully frown even more. He looked at her, his face telling her he saw it. He wanted to ask what was wrong. She wanted to ask him about it too. "David, you could have gotten away from him at any time you wanted to with your 'gift.'" Even after all these years with Mulder, even though she knew what David's "gift" was, it just felt weird to admit that something like it existed. "Why didn't you?" 

"Oh," David said. "He was going to hurt you. I wasn't going to let him do that." 

_ He almost gave up his life for you, Dana,_ Mulder thought as Scully leaned over quietly, almost resting her head on his chest, giving the boy a hug.

"Uhh, Dana, I appreciate the hug and all, but…you're kind of hurting me."

"I'm sorry," Scully said, immediately standing up. "Weren't you…weren't you scared?"

_ He protected her. He succeeded where I failed,_ Mulder was telling himself. He was tuned out of everything going on in the room.

"Yeah," David said. Then he turned to look at Mulder and smiled. "The only thing that kept me going was that I knew Fox would come."

Mulder's head turned and looked at him sharply, his face saying _What did you say?_ so loudly that the people in the next room could have read it.

Scully turned and looked at him with a smile that said, _I told you so._

* * *

Benjamin Reilly Memorial Cemetery  
Washington D.C.

_Angela Shaffer  
1977-1988  
"You taught us how to smile."_

"I don't think I've ever been here, Scully," I said, reading the grave for the first time. "I don't know why. Maybe I was always afraid of what I would say to myself."

"And what are you saying to yourself?" she asked me as I knelt to place the flowers on the grave. They were such pretty flowers…

I stood up and looked in her serious, green eyes before I answered. "That I'm glad you're here with me." 

We did not say anything but paid our respects to the dead. Then we started back the way he had came, back to the car. 

Scully tells me that David is going to be okay. We both know he will have issues to deal with, but we're confident he will deal with them appropriately when the time comes. The Watsons are there to help him. So are we.

Logan Jackson expects to never see the light of day again. The evidence we uncovered from '88 in addition to the tapes we cleaned out of his house should put him away for a long, long time. I suppose I should be happy about that. I suppose I should be happy that David is safe as well, but I am not.

Then there's Scully. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have Scully. Sometimes I forget that what she went through was just as traumatizing as what David endured. Still, she goes forward like nothing happened, never pulling me aside to talk about it. I can read it in her eyes, see the reflection of the thoughts that played through her mind that night. On the flight back, when it got very quiet, I thought I heard her shudder. I tried to comfort her, but she said it was nothing. She deals with so much pain, so much more than any normal person could.

It makes me admire her even more.

"You okay?" I asked as I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Huh?" she said, not expecting it I assume. "Oh, I'm fine." Her voice was distant, and I could see what she was thinking of in her eyes.

She is so determined to keep it to herself. "Say, Scully, what are you doing tonight?" I asked, starting the car. I'm determined too.

"Tonight?" she said, sounding like the second question had caught her more off guard. "I do not know. Nothing, I suppose…"

"What do you say you and I make a date?" I said, grinning mischievously. 

"A date?" she said, eying me like I was the craziest man alive. Not that my superiors would disagree, or anything…

"Yeah," I said, reaching under the seat. "A date with Torgo." She laughed as I showed her the copy of **Manos: The Hand of Fate**. "He takes care of the place while the master is away, you know. This guy is going places."

"Sure, Mulder. Sure," she said, shaking her head and smiling.

For this one brief moment, she was happy. And that's all I needed to make me smile too.

***


End file.
